


Old Girls

by ami_ven



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three of the dancers from the Captain America USO tour recognize Steve on the news, and head to New York…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Girls

“Dorothy! Francine! Turn on the news, right now!”

“What?” said Francine, snapping awake. “Louise, it’s not time for the news.”

Louise snatched the television remote from the couch next to her and switched it on. “Aliens are attacking New York!”

There _were_ aliens attacking New York.

The residents of the Sunny Hills Retirement Facility watched the grainy video footage in silence, as the terrified reporters tried to relay their stories. Then, suddenly, there was a red-and-gold blur, and the current reporter cheerfully announced the arrival of Iron Man.

And not just Iron Man— there was a big green human-shaped something, a man in armor with long blonde hair, a redheaded woman in a dark uniform, a man with a fancy-looking bow and arrow, and—

“Captain America!” cried Louise, one hand flying to her heart. “Oh, girls, look!”

It wasn’t quite the same costume she remembered, from decades ago when she had been a dancer with the USO, but there was no mistaking that color scheme.

“But why now?” asked Francine. She had been a dancer, too, from the same town here in Ohio as Dorothy was— Louise had moved here from Illinois when she’d married Francine’s brother, Frank, after the war. “If the Army was going to keep using the costume, the persona, surely they’d have used it for Vietnam, or Korea, or…”

“Maybe they were waiting for anyone who knew Steve to be too old to object?” suggested Louise.

“It’s _Steve_!” cried Dorothy.

“That’s what I said,” Louise told her, raising her voice a little. “Steve.”

“No, _that’s_ Steve,” said Dorothy. “Right now. Look, it’s him!”

On the television, the man in the Captain America costume had pushed back his hood, revealing a very familiar face.

“ _Steve_ ,” Louise breathed. “But he’s dead. His plane crashed and they never found it. And even if he had survived, he wouldn’t be…”

“He looks like he did the day he left, running off to rescue that friend of his,” said Francine.

That had been the end of Captain America’s USO tours— Louise had been happy that Steve had finally gotten to really fight the way he wanted to, but the show hadn’t been able to continue without him.

“It can’t be Steve,” said Louise. “But it has to be. Nobody else could throw a shield like that.”

Steve had hardly let the thing out of his sight during the war. He practiced with it at all hours, and could handle it like it was an extension of himself. The man on the news used the same moves that Steve had, not any one signature motion, but all of them together making the three women certain that it had to be him.

The news continued to show images of the battle, of the man in the Captain America costume, who had to be Steve Rogers, unless he was some kind of clone, like in those sci-fi movies Louise’s grandkids liked to watch. Finally, it was over, the aliens— _aliens!_ — defeated and the costumed heroes vanished into a sea of black-suited government types.

Someone turned off the TV and there was a long, stunned silence in the facility’s recreation room, until Dorothy said, “I’m going to New York.”

Francine and Louise stared at her. Dorothy hadn’t left the retirement home in years, except to go for dinner at the Bob Evans down the street when her niece’s family was in town.

“I’m going,” she repeated. “If that is Steve, if it’s really him…”

“We’re all going,” said Louise, and Francine nodded.

*

“But how will we find Steve?” asked Dorothy, as the bus crossed the Ohio border into Pennsylvania, almost three weeks later.

Louise looked up from her knitting. “We ask Tony Stark, of course.”

“What,” said Francine, “just walk into the lobby of Stark Tower and demand to see Captain America?”

“Yes,” Louise said, simply. “We’re little old ladies, they have to at least listen.”

“Huh,” said Dorothy. “Maybe you’re right.”

*

“My name is Louise Norcross and I’m here to speak with Steve Rogers.”

The woman at the sprawling security desk regarded her suspiciously. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but no one by that name is an employee here at Stark Industries.”

“I never said he was an employee,” Louise corrected. “I said I was here to speak with him.”

“Really, ma’am, I’m sorry—”

“Is there a problem here, ladies?” asked a voice, suddenly, and Louise would have recognized it anywhere from how often the man was on television.

“Actually, there is, Mr. Stark,” she said, “I’m—”

“Louise?” asked a new voice. It was Steve, no chance of mistaking him now, and he was frowning at them as though he couldn’t believe it was _them_. “Francine? Dotty?”

Dorothy laughed. “No one’s called me that in at least fifty years,” she said, but didn’t get any further in her explanation as Steve pulled her in for a surprisingly gentle hug.

“I just can’t believe you’re here,” he said, then pulled away quickly. “I’m sorry, where are my manners? Tony, this is Dorothy Preston, Louise Waverly and Francine Norcross. They were dancers in the USO tour, during the war.”

“I’m Fran Engel, now,” said Francine, smiling. “And Louise is Norcross. She married my brother, Frank.”

“Hey, how about that?” Steve grinned. “What about you, Dotty?”

“I never married,” she said, a little stubbornly. “My Annabeth didn’t live to see that become legal.”

“Oh,” said Steve. “Oh, Dotty, I’m so sorry. I’m sure she was a wonderful dame.”

“She was,” said Dorothy, with a bittersweet smile.

“What about you, Steve?” Louise asked.

He turned faintly pink and glanced back at Stark. “I, um…”

“Not that,” said Francine, smiling. “What happened, how are you here?”

“Oh,” Steve said again. “I—”

“Ladies, Steve, maybe we should discuss this somewhere else?” said Stark.

“Right,” said Steve. “Tony, do you mind…?”

Stark smiled. “Capsicle, I’ve been _telling_ you, you live here, you don’t have to— Ladies, this way, please.”

He led them into a side corridor and a smaller elevator, which had no buttons.

“JARVIS,” said Stark. “My floor. And order some food, something light, you know…”

“ _I will take care of it, sir_ ,” replied a voice.

Steve turned back to them, grinning. “Tony’s house is run by a computer,” he said.

“AI,” corrected Stark. “Artificial Intelligence. Say hello, Jay.”

“ _Good day, ladies_.”

“Goodness,” said Dorothy. “A robot butler!”

Louise and Fran smiled as she asked more questions about the computer program— Dorothy had always been the one peering into broken-down Army trucks during their USO days. The elevator let them out on a sunny, open-plan floor, and Steve led the way to a comfortable sitting area.

“Tell me everything,” said Steve. “How did you find me? How have you been? Is anyone else from the show still—”

“Whoa, there, slow down, Capsicle,” said Stark, laughing. “Ladies, you understand that Steve-o here being the actual, original Captain America isn’t exactly common knowledge, and how we might not want that information getting out?”

“You don’t have to worry about us, Mr. Stark,” said Louise.

“Tony, please,” he interrupted.

She nodded. “Tony. Steve, I— I’m afraid there aren’t that many of us who’d be able to recognize you, anymore.”

“Oh,” said Steve, softly. “I hadn’t realized… I hadn’t quite worked up the courage to look up everyone yet.”

Dorothy leaned over to pat his knee. “Time has been kind to most of us,” she said, smiling. “What happened?”

Steve explained, haltingly, the plane crash that had landed him in the icy Atlantic, and how he’d been found and woken not long before the big fight in New York they’d seen on TV. “But how did you know it was _me_?” he asked.

“It’s a new costume,” said Francine. “But Louise recognized you. She has a great memory.”

“ _Apologies, sir, captain, ladies_ ,” said JARVIS, the robot butler. “ _But I have been asked to remind you that the applicants for the Stark Industries charity routine will be arriving momentarily for final approval._ ”

“Ah,” said Tony. “Ladies, Steve—”

“Did he mean your go-go dancers?” Francine interrupted. “The ones who dress up like Iron Man cheerleaders?”

“Um, yes?” he said, while Steve snickered. 

“We should meet them,” she continued. “We could offer useful advice.”

“Um,” Tony said again.

Steve grinned. “I think that’s a great idea, Fran.”

*

“How is this happening?” Tony asked, faintly. “I don’t understand.”

There had been five final applicants to join the Ironettes, all of whom had arrived already in costume and who had all been thrilled to meet three of the original Captain America USO dancers. Louise was deep in discussion with a young lady named Olivia and her roommate, Ida, apparently both students of women’s history at NYU, while Dorothy was offering make-up tips to Kendra and Lei, and Francine had somehow found a needle-and-thread to fix Staci’s loose zipper.

“What, you think ‘sex sells’ is a modern invention?” said Steve. “I know you’ve seen pictures of the girls’ USO outfits.”

“Yes, but—” Tony said, then huffed out a laugh. “I’m glad they found you, Cap. You’ve smiled more today than I’ve seen you smile… ever.”

“It’s nice to be around people who remember the same things I do,” he said.

Tony lit up. “Really? You mean, they’ll have embarrassing stories? Ladies…”

“No, Tony, wait!” Steve began, but he knew it was a losing battle.

THE END


End file.
